


The story about us

by Iulytrash



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, John Watson's Blog, Johnlock - Freeform, M/M, Mary is dead, Romance, Sherlock Being Sherlock, Slow Burn, before S4, but is johnlock, forget s4, it didn't happen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-14
Updated: 2017-03-14
Packaged: 2018-10-04 21:29:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10290419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iulytrash/pseuds/Iulytrash
Summary: I guess this entry will never be published, so it will never be read by eyes other than mine, but I feel the need to tell my biggest adventure with the only consultant detective and my best friend: Sherlock Holmes.It is not about a case or a mystery. It is a story. And as all of them it has action, adventure, drama, and to my surprise, romance. But above all, it has him. Or better, it has us with each other.This is the story about us.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [La Historia sobre nosotros](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/274457) by Myself. 



> This is the first part of a fic that a wrote like 2 years ago, but I published first in Spanish - because is my first language - but now I'm translating it while I learn english, so probably my grammar sucks. Feel free to correct me as much as you can, I'm doing this to learn.   
> For this fic you need to forget that S4 happened bc you know, I wrote it before. I swear, you can check in wattpad 'La Historia sobre nosotros' by yenmillion. So, forget that S4 happened, is good for your health anyway.

I guess this entry will never be published, so it will never be read by eyes other than mine, but I feel the need to tell my biggest adventure with the only consultant detective and my best friend. Regardless of this, I’ll write it like it was another entry, because I'm used to do it.

This story doesn’t begins that day that I met the Great Sherlock Holmes at Barts, but after one of the most tragic moments of my life: Mary Watson, my wife, was reached for her past, despite the efforts that the detective and his brother made. I have no right to blame them for anything, they protected us as much as they could. And that bullet that crossed her, took with it the baby of eight months still in her womb. My baby. I don’t want to talk about it.

Then, when life in that department, with my wife's clothes and my daughter's toys, became simply unbearable, I returned to the 221B of Baker Street.

Two years have passed since then, but they will not return from death, so I try not to blame myself for moving on. I don't always achieve it, because the pain is able to reach your inner and destroy you in seconds, but I try.

In all that time I kept myself busy, working in a new hospital and solving cases with Sherlock. Also blogging about it. His fame, and mine -why not?-, has grown to the point where we are rarely lacking a new mystery, although I haven't published them all. For his part, he is not bored anymore. Moriarty, or the ghost of his passing through this world, reappears when things seem to have finally calmed down. My friend, who often enjoys this, was three months ago working with a mystery related to his enemy when…

\- John? - He said from the kitchen. I left my room after getting dressed for work. I went downstairs and found him sitting with his eyes on the microscope. I enjoyed thinking about the countless times that I used to woke up to face the exact same image - what do you think?

\- About what? - I asked confused, though I regretted it immediately.

\- The case, John. I explained to you my latest discovery about ... -

\- You have to stop doing that - I said, before he could finish.

\- Do what? - he asked, finally looking away from the lens. He never changed.

\- Talk while I'm not here -

\- I think that's impossible -

\- Why? - I asked him while I heated water for tea.

\- Because I always want you to be here - I dropped the spoon and I turned to look at him, but he was observing again whatever it was on the petri dish with indifference.

I drank my Earl Gray cup hurriedly, put his on the table, and hurried to the clinic. When I returned after finishing my shift, the tea was still in the same place, but my friend wasn’t. However there was a note and it said:

"Crime scene, St. Pancras station, you're invited to join me. SH"

I smiled, took my jacket and forgot immediately the tiredness that I felt.

**Author's Note:**

> I don't hate Mary, she is a good villain, but she needed to die for plot reasons.  
> If you like it i will continue translating it.


End file.
